Baree still followed.

She went straight to a birch tree that she had located that day and began tearing off the loose bark.

An armful of this bark she carried close to the wigwam, and on it she heaped load after load of wet wood until she had a great pile.

From a bottle in the wigwam she secured a dry match, and at the first touch of its tiny flame the birch bark flared up like paper soaked in oil.

Half an hour later the Willow's fire--if there had been no forest walls to hide it--could have been seen at the cabin a mile away.